


It Sounds Just Like a Song

by ViiA01



Series: Camellias [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Green Lantern - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, It starts out fluffy and but does it take a turn, M/M, it's the classic dream sequence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:33:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22751818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViiA01/pseuds/ViiA01
Summary: Bruce watched as Hal shepherded Jason and Damian out of the room. And to think, he was worried they wouldn’t accept Hal or his relationship with Bruce. Seeing how Hal was with all his children, it made Bruce’s chest tight with emotion.He had never wanted this, but now that he had it, he didn’t want to ever let it go.Day 1: Domestic | Hanahaki Disease
Relationships: Hal Jordan/Bruce Wayne
Series: Camellias [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775914
Comments: 18
Kudos: 236
Collections: Batlantern Week





	It Sounds Just Like a Song

**Author's Note:**

> I know I know, I'm late, but that's like my calling card by now
> 
> In my defense, I thought it was next week
> 
> Picked both prompts btw.

It Sounds Just Like a Song

“I don’t see why I have to go.” Jason complained. “The one benefit of death was not having to go to these stupid parties.”

Dick looked horrified. “Jason!”

“Have you died again, Master Jason?” Alfred asked drolly as he portioned out the Spanakopita he had made for lunch. “Goodness, why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Bruce snorted into his lunch. He shouldn’t find jokes about Jason’s death funny, but Jason made them all the time and it was hard not to find them somewhat amusing. He tried not to laugh though, because Dick quite clearly didn’t like Jason’s jokes.

Not that Jason seemed to care.

“It won’t be that bad, Little Wing.” Dick said to Jason, trying to cosy up to him and getting nowhere because Jason was elbowing him away determinedly. “It’ll be fun!”

“Fun.” Tim repeated. “Dick, how hard did you hit your head last night?”

“For once, we agree.” Damian muttered darkly, accepting his plate from Alfred. “I do not see how going to a teenage girl’s birthday party is fun.”

“It _is_ fun, Dami!”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s lying.” Jason said through a mouthful of food and got whapped on the back of the head by Alfred as he passed by with his cart. “And I’m still not hearing a compelling reason as to why I have to be there-”

“If I have to go, then so do you.” Tim said, pointing his fork at Jason and splattering feta everywhere. “Especially since Steph already bailed.”

“She has an exam.” Cassandra pointed out, stealing a tomato of Dick’s plate.

“Yeah, not like she’s going to actually be studying!” Tim spluttered, getting more feta on the table and also on Damian, who was sitting opposite him. “She’s just going to be watching YouTube videos and eating take out.”

“Tim! Cease your flailing! You’ve gotten cheese all over my new sweater!”

“Man that sounds great.” Duke said, swiping another piece of pie off Alfred’s cart as he wheeled it by. “You know, I’m not really you know, a Wayne, so really-”

“If I must endure Tim’s insipid company for the night, then you must as well Thomas.” Damian said seriously, stabbing his pie ferociously. “If you don’t come then my only intelligent conversation will be Father and that just won’t do.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Little brat.”

Duke snorted, laughing silently into his lunch and then biting down on his bottom lip when Cassandra elbowed him. “Sure thing, Damian.”

“Enough.” Bruce interjected firmly, fixing all of his children with a stern look. “You’re all going, end of story. It’s the Mayor’s daughter’s birthday and they have graciously invited us to go along, so we are going to go.”

All five of them, except Dick who always enjoyed social gatherings, stared at Bruce, obviously unimpressed. Even Cassandra, who usually enjoyed dressing up and doing her makeup, looked less than thrilled with the upcoming birthday party they were attending.

“We’re all going to be polite and kind to her-”

“What’s her name?” Jason demanded.

Bruce paused, caught off guard.

Tim raised an eyebrow.

“Now-”

“Answer the question, Father.” Damian said snippily, narrowing his eyes at Bruce and fork glinting.

Bruce floundered. To be honest, he couldn’t remember the poor girl’s name. She was very shy, and she had fled the room the last time he had seen her, bright red and spluttering after Dick had introduced himself. “It is her birthday-”

“Yeah we got that,” Duke said, grinning, “but what’s her name?”

Bruce was really beginning to regret letting him spend time with Jason and Tim. They got on entirely too well and it was only getting worse now that Duke and Tim spent their afternoons at WE’s R&D labs now. “You’re still all going.”

Dick was grinning at Bruce now. “You don’t know, do you?” he asked Bruce.

“Stop torturing your father, children.” Hal said, sweeping into the room. His flight jacket was over one arm and he still had his greasy, filthy white t-shirt that told Bruce he had spent the day working on the planes, rather than flying them. “He’s old, he forgets things.”

Bruce glowered as Hal bent down and pressed a kiss against his cheek. “It’s only a five year-”

Damian gagged. “Revolting.” he declared. “I am trying to _eat_ , Hal.”

Hal laughed and sat down in the chair that had been left open on Bruce’s right. “My sincerest apologies, Damian. We’ll try to tone it down for you.”

“Hi Hal.” Dick said cheerily. “We’re just talking about how fun the party is going to be tonight.”

Hal glanced at Bruce with a knowing smile. “So many pretty people to flirt with and journalists to scandalise. I’ve been looking forward to it all week, though I think we’re in the minority in that regard, Dick.”

“That’s because no one pinches your cheeks.” Tim said darkly, shredding his lettuce with meticulous movements. He didn’t seem to notice that Jason had started eating off his plate. “Why don’t they ever pinch Damian’s cheeks? He’s the baby.”

“I’m not a baby!”

“He called the last person to do that a washed up harlot.” Duke pointed out.

Bruce sighed, remembering the incident clearly. It had made the papers, but only because the woman had snapped back with something rather racist and Stephanie had threatened to stab her with a cheese knife.

“Don’t worry, Timbo,” Hal said, swiping the rest of Bruce’s lunch off his plate despite the giant portion Alfred had given him, “I’ll protect you from the little old ladies.”

Tim smiled and then immediately tried to look like he wasn’t. It was only then that he noticed Jason stealing his food. “Jason!”

“Well you weren’t eating it!”

“I was!”

The table descended into another argument when Damian insisted that Tim and Jason stop flinging food around like monkeys. Somehow, the other three got dragged into it as well, and Bruce thought it was just as well that Stephanie _wasn’t_ here, because she and Jason together were… chaotic, to put it lightly.

Even so, Bruce couldn’t help but bask in the noisy dining room. It hadn’t ever been a dream of his, to have a big family and a full house. But somehow, along the way, he supposed he had gotten sentimental.

Bruce had never imagined that he would have six talented, strong, intelligent children, seven if you counted Stephanie. Which he did.

But he did and it made him proud to see them getting along, or at least acting like a family. He had always wanted siblings because he had always been so jealous of the teasing, lighthearted relationships he had seen on television.

Hal was trying to mediate, or, he was giving it a half-hearted attempt, still eating.

And Bruce had never imagined that he would end up married to Hal Jordan. Never could have even entertained the thought of opening his home to him, of letting his children meet him, of letting him know Bruce like no one else ever had.

But he had.

And watching as Hal helped Cassandra cut up her pie into pieces while Jason and Damian sniped at each other over the table, Bruce’s heart was full and content.

* * *

Bruce sighed, slumping down on the chaise lounge in his bedroom. The afternoon sun had warmed the fabric of the sofa and honestly, he was tempted to nap.

It was always difficult wrangling all of his children into appropriate clothing for an event. Tim always made some attempt to sneak off to Conner’s house and Jason insisted on spiking up his hair into ridiculous hairstyles in order to make Bruce relent and let him stay behind.

Dick had taken responsibility for getting Damian ready and Bruce could hear their argument from down the hall. Cassandra was fine, but Duke had spent a good fifteen minutes talking Bruce in circles about why he shouldn’t have to go.

“Technically-” Duke had kept repeated until he finally caved under the combined pressure of Alfred and Bruce.

Hal laughed at him as he emerged from their shared closet. “And it’s only four pm.” he teased, fixing his bowtie with a few deft movements. “We’ve got… six more hours before it’s socially acceptable to bail. Six more hours of making sure none of them cause an international incident.”

“I think that’s more your speed.” Bruce murmured, pressing his face against the hand Hal stroked through his hair.

“You’re never going to let me forget about the incident with Markovia, are you?”

Bruce smiled, closing his eyes. “Not a chance, Jordan.”

“Ah.” Hal said.

Bruce opened his eyes when the sunlight was blocked out.

Hal was leaning over him, eyes turned liquid gold by the sun behind him. “Jordan…?” he prompted with a smile. “C’mon now, Spooky, you can’t have forgotten already, could you?”

“Never, Mr. Hal Jordan-Wayne.” Bruce murmured before he surged up and pulled Hal down to him at the same time, pressing their lips together. Hal tasted like toothpaste and the hint of Bruce’s cologne around him only made Bruce want him even more.

The door to their bedroom slammed open. “Father, Hal, tell Todd to- _What are you doing?!_ ”

“Oh gross.” Jason said mildly, though he sounded more amused than anything.

Bruce groaned against Hal’s lips and slumped back against the couch as Hal simply laughed and pulled away. He loved his children, he really did, they were the most important people in his life. But Sometimes, he wished they would just… not.

He hadn’t gotten to see Hal for more than a few minutes, except for when they went to bed and he just wanted a few moments alone with his husband.

Just a few minutes to have Hal all to himself.

“This is why we knock, Dami.” Hal said, running his fingers through Bruce’s hair.

“It’s bad enough that I had to listen to mother blathering on about it, but now I have to see it!?” Damian railed loudly. “Stop laughing, Todd! I will disembowel you!”

“Now, what are you two doing? Aren’t you supposed to be getting dressed, Damian?”

“I was about to, but Todd came in and insisted I change out of my pants and wear these hideous shorts and socks!”

“You like Dickie-bird so much I thought you could dress up like him- It’ll be cute.” Jason said, egging Damian on.

“I am not cute!” Damian screeched.

Bruce sighed, rubbing his eyes as he prepared to get up and separate the two before they could come to blows. It was sort of sweet, watching Damian be teased by his older brothers and seeing Jason, Tim and Duke _act_ like older brothers, but right now it was just frustrating.

Hal twisted a lock of Bruce’s hair gently, tangling his fingers in the hair at the nape of Bruce’s neck for a brief moment. “Go and shower. I’ll deal with these two.” he said to Bruce quietly.

Bruce watched as Hal shepherded Jason and Damian out of the room. And to think, he was worried they wouldn’t accept Hal or his relationship with Bruce. Seeing how Hal was with all his children, it made Bruce’s chest tight with emotion.

He had never wanted this, but now that he had it, he didn’t want to ever let it go.

* * *

Hal wasn’t back by the time Bruce had finished showering, but Bruce could hear banging from Cassandra’s room, which meant that Tim had probably been volunteered to have his makeup done again.

Bruce padded into the closet he now shared with Hal. Bruce had had it expanded to accommodate because Hal Jordan-Wayne was a very vain man and he had just as many clothes as Bruce did. Though, Dick and Cassandra had had a field day with Bruce’s wallet when they had taken Hal shopping.

Bruce smiled at the familiar jacket lying over the chaise lounge in the middle of their wardrobe. Martin Jordan’s jacket had been lovingly maintained and you wouldn’t know it was as old as it was.

The suit Alfred and Hal had picked out was hanging on the hanger on Bruce’s side of the wardrobe and Bruce sighed when Hal had gone for his favourite colour when picking out Bruce’s pocket square and tie.

He dressed as he heard the door to the bedroom open. “Green? Really?” he called.

Hal laughed as he walked into the closet. “Just making sure everyone knows who you belong to.”

Bruce shrugged on his shirt. “Are they all at least dressed?”

“Dressed and all very handsome and beautiful.” Hal said, leaning on the dresser and staring at Bruce with a familiar heated smirk. “Tim looks great with green eyeshadow by the way. Cass is very proud.”

Bruce smiled. He didn’t really understand why Cass need so much makeup, but he was just glad that she enjoyed doing it. She had explained that she enjoyed it so much because she was just never allowed to express herself before.

Hal hummed as he pressed himself against Bruce’s back, leaning his chin on Bruce’s shoulder. “I must say this suit of yours makes me think I made the right decision.”

“In?” Bruce prompted, as he did up his cufflinks.

Hal hummed, meeting Bruce’s eyes in the mirror. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” he asked, eyes glinting with cocky amusement.

“Say what?”

The light glinted off the ring on Hal’s finger as he looped his arms around Bruce’s waist, smoothing his hands down Bruce’s shirt. He smirked at Bruce, playing coy. “Well, at any rate, I’ve never liked that pompous designer more than I do right now. Your ass looks fantastic, Brucie baby.”

Bruce shook his head, doing up his tie. “Maybe _I_ made the wrong decision, marrying you.”

Hal grinned, tongue between his teeth. “Nah. You love me.” he said flippantly. “And I lov-”

* * *

Bruce woke up with the painful urge to cough.

The faint taste of lemon and anise was familiar to him now.

The petals were stained with blood when Bruce pulled the camellias out of his mouth and his throat didn’t just _feel_ raw and scratched, it was.

He tossed the wet, squashed flowers into the waste paper basket he had started keeping near his bed. It already had the remnants of Bruce’s coughing fit in the middle of the night, in it, though by now the blood had dried down to rusty brown.

Bruce knew it was getting worse. He had never had such a vivid, clear dream before, not one that had felt so real that it almost hurt to wake up.

And the coughing fits were worsening as well. Now the bloody flowers were a daily occurrence, and the tightness in his chest never left. It was bad enough that he often struggled on patrol, chest too tight and throat constricted.

The cologne he wore was enough to cover the faint scent of camellia’s, and for that, Bruce was grateful.

But he knew it couldn’t go on like this. It had been a year since Vandal Savage had tried to send the world back to the dark ages, nearly a year since Hal had sacrificed himself to keep the solar flare at bay.

Back then, the symptoms of the disease had been slight and easy to hide. The taste of camellia in his mouth whenever Hal looked at him, the slimy petals that he had to hold on his tongue when Hal talked about his latest one night stand.

Diana had caught him dumping petals in the incinerator one day and had urged him to tell whoever it was.

“You should tell him.” she had said. “Don’t punish yourself, Bruce. Whatever self-imposed penance you think this is, it’s not worth it.”

Bruce had known he would have to tell Hal sooner or later. He couldn’t let the disease kill him. His children needed a father, and Gotham needed the Bat.

And then Hal had died.

And Bruce never got the chance.

In the lowest moments, after they had buried Hal, Bruce had thought that finally, finally he would be free from Hal Jordan. The disease would go away and Bruce would be able to move on without the light of Hal Jordan blinding him.

The thought was fleeting when Bruce remembered the quiet moments on the Watchtower, when Hal would talk about all the alien races he had met, all of the plans he had for Ferris’ planes, how he would talk about old westerns, eyes bright.

Remembering those moments, a part of Bruce didn’t want to move on.

And as if to add insult to injury, as if it wasn’t enough that Hal was dead, the disease didn’t go away.

It just got worse.

Day after day, the taste of camellia’s got stronger, lemon and anise. Soon it wasn’t just petals he was pulling out of his mouth but leaves and stems. And then buds of flowers, and then thicker stems, twigs really, ones that burned and scraped as he hacked them up.

Bruce kicked the bin under the bed as he got up. His chest was tight, and he could hear the rattle in his throat as he inhaled.

He felt like he couldn’t inhale deeply enough, couldn’t get enough air and it still wasn’t a feeling he was quite used to.

He knew he could deal with the problem, end the fits of coughing and nights where he struggled to breathe properly.

But he just… couldn’t bear the thought of it.

He knew that having the surgery would remove the infection in his chest, but it would also remove the feelings he had for Hal and with Hal gone, Bruce didn’t know if he wanted that. Didn’t know if he could bear the thought of not having the dreams about Hal and the life they could have had.

Even if it was worse during the day, during those dreams, Bruce hadn’t failed his children, hadn’t been so much of a coward to let Hal go out without telling him his true feelings.

Bruce’s chest itched and he coughed, hoping to dispel it.

It only made it worse and Bruce was racked with another fit of coughing and choking.

The scent of camellias was overwhelming.

* * *

“I’m fine, Diana.”

“You’re not.” Diana snapped, grabbing his arm. She looked down. “He’s gone, Bruce. And you can’t keep torturing yourself like this. What about Damian? Tim? Cassandra? Duke? Dick, Jason, Stephanie? They need you. More than a dead man does.”

Bruce shook her away. “I have it managed.”

“No you don’t.” Diana said, seeing through him as she always could. Her brow creased. “I know what it’s like, Bruce, to lose someone you love so much, someone you didn’t get to share your full, raw feelings with. And I wish, every day that I had let Steve know just how much I love him, but I can’t go back.”

Bruce restrained himself from snapping at her. It would do no good. “I have it handled.”

“Hal wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself like this.” Diana said. “I don’t know his feelings for you, Bruce, but I know he wouldn’t like to see you like this.”

“I said-”

Her expression hardened. “You know Alfred talks to me, right?”

Bruce clamped his mouth shut.

Diana sighed. “I can’t let you continue with the League if you’re going to continue hiding this illness from the rest of them. It will get you killed out in the field and the last thing I want to do again is tell a family that their father is not coming home.”

Bruce wondered just how much Alfred knew, and why he hadn’t spoken to Bruce about it before going directly to Diana. Had he closed himself off that much?

“Even if you don’t get treatment, you need to tell your family.” Diana murmured, putting a hand on his shoulder. “But you need to give the surgery serious thought. The League will go on, long after we’re both dust, but your family needs you.”

* * *

Shockingly enough, it wasn’t Dick that Bruce finally confided in. It wasn’t even Tim.

It was Jason.

It was an accident.

An up and coming drug kingpin had ignored Red Hood’s warnings about dealing to kids and now Gotham had a mountain of pre-teen bodies in the streets, dead from drugs cut with rat poison and mercury and god knows what else.

Jason had asked for help.

For once.

He had wanted justice for the dead kids, but whoever was behind it was sophisticated and it stunk of white collar involvement and international crime rings.

They had been in the middle of raiding one of the drop points for the drugs, combing through anything and everything that might give them a clue as to where the drugs were coming from and who was financing such advanced weapons tech for what were, essentially, low level thugs.

And Bruce had felt the coughing fit coming on and hadn’t been able to curb it in time. He was only grateful that whoever was around to hear was already unconscious.

“You get hit with something?” Jason demanded, dragging Bruce upright by the shoulder. “Christ you must be getting old if you couldn’t get your mask out-”

Bruce ripped the camellias out of his mouth and choked on another that was already swelling up in the back of his throat. He coughed again, wet and loud and it _hurt_ , somewhere deep in his chest, it felt like something had just torn.

The coughs were deep and ragged, and the camellias weren’t just spotted with blood, but soaked in it now.

Jason kept a firm grip on his shoulder until the fit subsided and Bruce was holding a fistful of red camellias, more scattered on the ground at his feet.

“Who?” was the only thing Jason asked.

Bruce watched as his second eldest cleaned up the bloodied flowers and dropped bleach on the floor to clean away any trace of Bruce’s blood and DNA. “… Hal Jordan.”

Jason paused.

Hal Jordan’s death was widely publicised. It was the first time one of the League had fallen in battle, after all.

Jason didn’t laugh at Bruce. But the look of pity was almost worse. “Jesus Christ. You really like that whipping stick, don’t you, old man?” he said, but it was soft and sad rather than accusing.

Bruce put the camellia’s in one of his pouches, making a note to get rid of them before any of the others found them. sAlfred already knew, the pointed brochures about surgeries didn’t appear in a vacuum after all.

But none of the others knew and Bruce knew they would worry.

“I meant to tell him.” Bruce tried. “If he was- if it wasn’t mutual I-”

Jason shook his head. “You don’t- you don’t need to explain it to me.” he said, raising a hand. “But this… this can’t go on. You know it’ll kill you, right?”

“I’m aware. I’m… dealing with it.”

“Are you?” Jason asked, and Bruce imagined the look on his face, the serious, piercing look that only Jason was capable of, even when he was a short, scrawny kid from Park Row. “Are you dealing with it? Or are you telling yourself you’re dealing with it?”

* * *

Jason knew a surgeon in Japan who specialised in clients who wanted to keep things quiet. She was one of the best in her field and Jason vouched for her efficiency and discretion.

Alfred handled the rest. He made Bruce’s excuses, with Wayne Enterprises and the rest of the family. Batman was following up on a lead in Japan for Jason’s drug ring case and Bruce Wayne was taking a sabbatical, seeing the sights and learning meditation and sand art.

The rest of the family would need to stay in Gotham, to keep the pressure on the drug ring stateside. Red Hood would be running an op out of California.

Or. Arsenal would be, wearing Jason’s gear.

Jason would go with Bruce to Japan, don the cape and cowl for a few nights to keep up appearances.

And Bruce would get the surgery.

“Scarring will be minimal.” the surgeon said, strange green eyes sharp. “I’ll go in through the chest to detach the main source and cut the other blockages down into manageable pieces so they can be removed. I’ll need to take a full exam once you’re here, but you’re looking at a week long recovery in a hospital bed and then a further five before you’re cleared for any physical activity.”

Jason was across the room, making a mess of Bruce’s knick knacks, knocking them over and moving them around. But he paused and looked up at Bruce when Bruce didn’t immediately answer.

It was the last push Bruce needed. “Of course. When can you book me in?”

“When can you get here?”

* * *

“Surgery went off without a hitch, old man.” Jason said as soon as Bruce opened his eyes. “You’re back to your old… self.”

Bruce wasn’t sure if he was imagining the disappointment in Jason’s voice. His son had always been a romantic, no matter how much he hid it. “Thank you, Jason.”

Jason’s hand was heavy and warm in his as Bruce drifted in the strange place between waking and sleeping. “Always, old man.”

* * *

Diana had her head in her hands when Bruce entered the meeting room. It was empty save for her and she looked small sitting alone at the table, contrasted against the darkness of space.

“What is it, Diana?” he asked.

Diana ran her fingers through her hair, pulling off her circlet and dropping it onto the table with a clang. “Bruce, I didn’t know.” she murmured. “If I had- I…”

Bruce frowned. He was still technically on light duty after his surgery, but if Diana was this concerned, then the threat had to be substantial.

She composed herself, drawing herself up regally. “I wanted to be the one to tell you, so you wouldn’t be caught off guard-”

If luck existed, then it wasn’t on Bruce’s side, because as she was talking, the door to the War Room slid open and Barry exploded inside, vibrating more than usual.

“I knew you would’ve figured it out already,” Barry said to Bruce, beaming. He looked more excited than Bruce had seen him in a long time. His cheeks were flushed, and his hair was in a disarray, his cowl missing for once. “I knew it-”

And then he was gone.

“Barry, wait!” Diana shouted. “Bruce, maybe it’s better if we talk somewhere else-”

Laughter floated down the hallway. The full bodied laugh that could only be Clark and the lighter sound of Barry’s voice.

And in between them both, a laugh that no longer haunted Bruce’s dreams, husky and low-

Bruce turned around as Clark walked through the door, Barry on his heels, and behind them-

Bruce saw the brown hair and cocky smile that he used to dream about. The blinding green glow, the skin tight uniform. The familiar brown eyes-

“Hey there, Spooky.”

**Author's Note:**

> Whoop there it is.
> 
> Camellias supposedly mean longing for your beloved. Idk if that’s true, idk about flowers.


End file.
